Sick of Creeps!!

I’m optimistic about my resolution to be a kinder gentler me.  It’s Monday and I’m actually greeting co-workers, smiling.  I’m feeling good, just chugged a Lo-Carb Monster and I am actually experiencing an emotion rarely felt at work, something resembling happiness???

My first interaction of the day is waiting for me in the lobby.  I’m practically bouncing out to greet him.

Initial response:  Gross. He’s abnormally small and overall sticky looking.  So I tell that inner evil snob to shut the hell up and be nice.  I’m really trying here.  

Blahblahblah I’m talking, doing my job. I ask him a question and the guy just stares at me.  I’m thinking, maybe he’s just thinking really hard, like maybe he’s slow or something.

He does not break eye contact.  He doesn’t even blink.  1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds, FOUR SECONDS, FIVE SECONDS, I just know he’s staring deep into my eyes imagining what I looked like as a 7 year old in She-Ra underroos.   I am so creeped out, I’m trying to control myself from shuddering or completely flipping out and calling the police.  But I’m in the middle of turning over a new leaf here so I convince myself that I just have a wild imagination and that he is not a pedophile and it isn’t his fault he has a cluster of brown skin tags on his neck fat folds.  And even though it is his fault that he hasn’t bothered to clean the black bacon grease from underneath his fingernails, I will not make my notorious expression of disgust.  After staring into my soul for the most uncomfortable 10 seconds of my entire life, he finally responds and I convince myself that I will make it through this.  He’s just a little different, maybe he has some mental impairment and there’s nothing he can do about that!  What kind of evil bitch would I be if I were to judge him and he has a disability acquired in the war.  No, no, no, he doesn’t sit at home all day polishing the shackles in his rape dungeon!

I’m going to make it.  

UNTIL he introduces me to an involuntary habit of wriggling his slimy tongue outside the side of his mouth.  And why does it look square shaped???  AND WHY WON’T HE STOP DOING IT.  I’m being molested by his tongue.  And now, I’m going to dry heave.  I’m going gag in front of this disabled war veteran.  

I want to cry.  I really just want to cry and run away.  I can’t take this.  Everything in my genetic code is telling me to gather up all of my DNA and escape. 

After blacking out and waking up curled in the fetal position under my desk, I realize it is over, and I think, I AM SO SICK OF CREEPS.

Knock it Off Marvel!

So off to a beautiful wedding at the beach.  A nice weekend get away from the daily grind, spending my hours getting my glow on and refraining from focusing my eyes (or mind) on anything in particular.  BUT, I first had to face the dreaded forced social situation otherwise known as THE RECEPTION.

Despite the rumors the beloved Fran Fine might spread, I am a socially awkward nightmare.  To me, a wedding reception is basically like being stuck in an elevator with about 10 psoriasis infected people.  And while everyone else is calmly throwing back shots of Yager and gracefully moving from crowd to crowd, I'm drinking my way into a multiple personality.

And so Evil Ms. Marvel elbows her way out of the recesses of my mind.  She makes her subtle entry by blurting comments out of context.  For example, while sitting in the back seat with a wedding gift bag that shed glitter everywhere.  Evil Ms. Marvel makes an attempt at humor, "It looks like Tinkerbell died back here."  The passenger gasps, "WHO'S DEAD???  WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BACK SEAT???"

Now I am forced to explain that I'm talking about Tinkerbell as in the animated pixie.  And yes I am a grown woman without children that regularly references animated characters.  So I force myself into silence and play with a really cool twisty tie I find in the back seat.

In addition to making strange comments, Ms. Marvel proves to be somewhat of a bitch.  She has no problem "Shunning" friendly strangers by shutting the conversation down right where it begins.  

Ex.

Nice Not Interested in Me Sexually Guy:  Oh yeah I think we've met before!

Me:  No we haven't. 

Why can’t she just calm down and be nice??   Would it kill her to fake a smile??  Why does she have a default face of disgust???                                                                                                   

Me saying, "So nice to meet you!"

And why couldn’t she have said something more clever like, “It looks like Tinkerbell was cremated in your back seat”??  So I’m turning over a new leaf.  I'm going to grab Evil Ms. Marvel by the hair, slap some masking tape over her mouth and I’m going to be nicer, politer, and funnier.  And one day I (and I alone) will twirl into a packed room and engage everyone I meet with friendly chatter without the desire to fake an IBS attack.   

I am sick of holding my purse while I pee!

Ok what is going on?

Is there some sort of hook shortage happening these days? 

I don't know if anyone else has noticed this, but lately, I cannot go into any public restroom and hang my purse on the back of the damn door! It appears that every hook in every public restroom in the state of California (at least southern cali) has been removed. Is there a hook thief on the loose? Was there a discovery of great value in bathroom stall purse hooks?

I am boggled by the sudden disappearance of these handy little hooks. I can think of no good reason for them to have been removed. Now when I have to pee in a public restroom (which, I never look forward to anyway) I not only have to squat and strain my thighs while hovering over the toilet for fear of contracting some deadly disease or impregnating myself by whatever the fuck is splattered all over that god forsaken seat, I also have to wear my purse around my neck like a god damn 10 pound necklace because there are no hooks to hang it on! Is this emptying my bladder or a fucking carnival act?

"COME SEE THE AMAZING PURSE-BALANCING PEEING WOMAN!"

This is a recent phenomenon because I never used to come across this problem. I noticed it happening here and there only over the past year or so but now, every single stall I go in, there is no hook to be found! You'd think that higher-end, nicer, newer restaurants and bars would supply us with a hook...

 no such luck! Only the old screw holes and rust-ridden outline of where a hook once hung remain in every single public stall.

And don't even think about having more than just a purse with you when nature calls in public. Take it from me, wearing your sweater as a cape, your camera as a necklace, and clenching your clutch with your teeth all while basically doing squats in a stall the size of a washing machine, trying desperately to not  even graze the walls of it in your less than sober state just to piss out that beer or two you downed is no easy task!

I don't know who we ladies have to talk to to get our hooks back, but christ almighty, let's figure it out!

I am sick of it!

POOF! I'm a lesbian!

This past Tuesday, my friend and I went to see Lykke Li in concert at the Wiltern. Just what we needed to sing and dance and clap and cry to. Good times!

I admit, before this year, I hadn't heard of her. My friend made me a cd of her stuff and I was hooked. 

Her music is awesome and after seeing her live, well, I'm in love. 

She is sexy, pretty, talented, unique and free-spirited. And I'm sure she's funny. 

What more could anyone want? 

We had a gay ol' time and now we are a little bit in love in with her...

(hit play)

Do's and Don'ts (part one)

Summer is upon us, here's what's up:

Do get your tan on. No one looks good pasty. Plus, you automatically look about 3-6 pounds thinner when you're skin is a few shades darker.

Do incorporate see-thru tops into your summer night attire and do wear cute bras under them. This is a sexy but not slutty look that will get you noticed. But don't go braless. That is slutty.

Do paint your toe and finger nails with some sort of Studio 54, disco ball glitter polish.

Don't be lazy and put off shaving your legs and nether regions. It's summer. A pool or hot tub party could spring up at any given moment. Be prepared.

Do listen to reggae. 

Do buy tickets to at least one outdoor summer concert. If you live in LA, definitely see a show at the Bowl or The Greek. 

Don't chop your hair off because the weather's gettin' warm and your long hair is making you too hot. You'll instantly regret it and buns are totally in. 

Don't starve yourself just cuz you want to look skinny in that swimsuit or because you don't want your muffin top or back fat hanging out of that bikini... ok, maybe you should starve yourself. A little.

Do wear long, earthmother dresses. Especially if you haven't achieved your maximum leg tan yet. They always look sexy, they can easily be dressed up or down depending on the occasion, and they're pretty much everywhere you go. Get one. 

Do drink festive, fruity drinks. Mango Margaritas, Pina Coladas, Mint Mojitos. They're the perfect compliment to a sunny summer day.

Don't get sick. Whatever you have to do to avoid getting sick, do it! Being sick on perfect summer days while the rest of the world is out by the pool or beating the heat at the beach totally SUCKS! 

Do go out to eat/drink at cute little outdoor cafes and restaurants. Aroma in Studio City or Home in Los Feliz are two of my personal faves. 

Do buy one of those vintage looking bathing suits. They're so cute and the right ones make you look curvy in all the right places and cover that buddha belly.

Don't worry if you don't have a dude. It's way more comfortable hangin' in bathing suits with your gal pals anyway. Summer is all about flings, so fuck it! Slip on that see-thru top, throw back a couple margaritas, make sure you shaved, and go find yourself a summer fling!

yay!